Mater Ursus
by Violet Lore
Summary: It hurt. It hurt so much to have someone look at you like you were the freak, an alien in your own world. There was no one for her to fall back on, no one to catch her when she was free-falling through an endless abyss of depression and hurt. No one, except for her sister.
1. Metamorphosis

Mater Ursus_  
_

_Chapter 1: Metamorphosis_

Erica Reyes had always seen herself as the larvae that would eventually become a fly. Something with a thousand eyes to be stared at oddly as she buzzed around; to be swatted at by an annoyed hand and eventually killed by a dishrag. She didn't see herself clearly. Her self-image was a distortion through rusted, broken mirrors splattered with the ugly colors of epilepsy. She couldn't-wouldn't-see past the giant stain that marked her, a birthmark that burned to her soul. She was too young to have that much perception in herself, and too much of an outcast and 'freak' to see any other way.

Her own peers taunted her, made her life miserable, and gave her hell. And she hated them. She hated them so much, them and everyone else; the doctors, the nurses, the people in the store that gave her funny looks while they stood around watching as she writhed on the dirty floor. It hurt. It hurt so much to have someone look at you like you were the freak, an alien in your own world. There was no one for her to fall back on, no one to catch her when she was free-falling through an endless abyss of depression and hurt. No one, except for her sister._  
_

Emma Reyes was to Erica as a lifeboat was to a shipwrecked crew: a beacon of meager hope, something to keep her afloat when all she wanted to do was drown. And sometimes Erica hated her for that. She hated Emma for making her move on to the next day, to keep going, to live in a never-ending spiral of routine. But other times... Other times Erica wouldn't have been able to survive without her. Sisters could see past what the world was completely blind to, and Emma... Emma saw everything. But when Erica became the butterfly that she thought she wouldn't, when she bloomed into something beautiful and fiery instead of an ugly pest, not only would Emma see straight through her, but she would see her mistakes, her regrets. And if there was one thing Erica Reyes hated more than her peers, it was when she looked into Emma's eyes and saw disappointment.

* * *

The nursing home just a town over from Beacon Hills was a quaint little place, and was called Green Pastures for no reason in particular. The color scheme was a neutral pallet of brown sienna and tan, spotted by false trees in the lobby and cheaply framed prints on the walls. The atmosphere wasn't completely cold and unfriendly like most homes for the elderly were; it held a neutral note of gray with the occasional colored burst of welcome and warmth. There was an inconsistent theme among the furniture; the chairs, tables, sofas and recliners didn't belong in the same room, yet somehow still fit together in an odd, unorthodox way. In a way, it was reminiscent of the people that lived and worked there.

"Now, Sheryl, you have to take your medicine, understand?" A woman stood in her wrinkled, faded scrubs, hair that was a few shades darker than dishwater blonde falling out of her messy bun. She looked tired, the bags under her eyes indicating a lack of sleep and peace. "It'll help your joints, you know." She laid a hand on the dark, wrinkled forearm of an old woman with eyes as sharp as metal shards and the color of cinnamon and honey.

"Darling, I haven't taken that nasty ass-crack stuff willingly since 2008, and I don't plan to any time soon." Her roughened words were inhibited by her lack of teeth and came out in a way far less than eloquent. She patted the hand of the nurse affectionately and began humming a soft, willowy tune.

"The warden will get you," Emma reminded, lips curling up wryly in a smile. The old woman cackled and began rolling her wheelchair slowly towards an even older table. "Miss Wilson!" Emma laughed, watching as the lady waved over her shoulder.

"She have to catch me first!" she cackled, promptly parking her chair next to an old man in a golfer's hat. Emma shook her head at the devious woman, before walking towards the break room down the hall. Her cellphone was in her purse on the counter, and it was a relief to have no new messages or voice mails from Erica's school. People often said she worried to much about her sister. Truth was, Emma couldn't help it. Erica was beautiful and strong, and she would never see it. Idiots with little to know knowledge wouldn't let her see it. Emma wanted her to see it, see that she wasn't just another kid with epilepsy. She was surviving, living, thriving. Other teenagers under that kind of pressure would crack, but Erica kept going. All Emma wanted was for her to see herself like she saw her: unique, and in no way perfect, but completely different from everyone else.

"Miss Wilson is giving Vicki hell again, Em," a red, frizzy haired woman stuck her head inside the break-room doorway to announce. "She would really like it if you could intervene, get the old bat to give in."

"Alright. Tell her I'll be there in a minute," Emma said, nearly interrupted by the chirping ring tone of her cellphone. BEACON HIGH SCHOOL flashed on the screen before she accepted the call. Dread weighed like a rock of ice in the pit of her stomach.

"This is Beacon High School's assistant principal, Ms. Knowles, calling. Is this the guardian of Erica Reyes?"

"Yes," Emma answered softly, gripping the phone so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"I am calling to inform you, Ms. Reyes, that Erica had a seizure earlier today. She was transferred to the Beacon Hills Hospital and was admitted to their care." Emma bit her lip at the assistant principal's cold tone.

"Oh God. Is she okay? What happened?" she rushed through her questions quickly.

"We weren't able to acquire details, Ms. Reyes."

"Okay, okay. I'm on my way." She hung up before the other woman could utter another sound. Emma tugged at the roots of her hair and took a deep breath. Erica's state of mind had been extremely fragile as of late. Emma was walking on eggshells around her as it was and this... This would only make it worse. Her sister had always wanted to be accepted, had pined to fit in like a lost piece to an endless puzzle. But wasn't that what everyone wanted? Emma wanted it for her. _So_ much. She just didn't know how to give it.

Emma gathered her things in a flurry of movement and went to clock out. Erica would want to be alone in the hospital, would want to linger in her thoughts; Emma wouldn't let her. She wouldn't let her sister chain herself to a boulder to be pushed into the middle of the ocean. She wouldn't let her drown.

"Reyes, if you leave I'll have to fire you. You've already missed fifty-one hours in the past three months." Vicki Hubert was the 'warden,' for all intents and purposes, at Green Pastures. The woman was uncaring and had a heart as sharp as her red, manicured fingernails. She was the Wicked Witch of the West to Emma's Toto.

"Erica had a"-

"Seizure. I know. You would never leave for any other reason. But we're already understaffed as it is, and I can't have you leaving now," the warden interrupted her swiftly. She was like a tsunami, sweeping up the shores in a blink of an eye and wiping out a city with little effort. "She'll be fine."

"Oh," was all Emma was able to unintelligibly say, before heading over to Miss Wilson. The the skin around the old woman's eyes was crinkled in thought, and without any prompting she knocked back her 'ass-crack' vitamins and pills.

"You went all the way to that hospital San Diego last weekend darling. How was it?" she asked, patting the young woman's forearm with tenderness. She didn't miss the way Emma's face blanked of emotion; wiped clean like the chalked letters on a black board.

"Eye opening," she managed to say.

"Mayhap you could call up that old hospital in Beacon Hills and ask them about your sister." Miss Wilson was a perceptive old bat indeed. She pushed the younger woman's back with hidden strength, nudging her in the direction of the break room. She was a strong, perceptive old bat. "Go ahead girl. Elsewise you'll be worried about her all day. Go on, get." Emma smiled weakly and headed off. And not five minutes later, all hell broke loose.

"Hello, this is Emma Reyes. I'm calling for my sister, Erica Reyes. She was admitted to the hospital earlier today from Beacon Hills High School."

"Erica Reyes? Would you please hold while I pull her records?" Elevator music played over the earpiece of the phone endlessly. "Erica Reyes was admitted, but she wasn't checked out."

"Is she there or not?" Emma asked, impatience making her voice sharp and to the point. It felt like a rock was in her throat, an immovable lump of uncomfortable. It stifled the panic that was welling in her heart.

"No."

"Then where is she?"

"We don't know, ma'am," the woman answered nervously. Emma took a deep breath as blood rushed to her face in an angry flush. Anger pooled in her gut, as hot as pure cayenne and black pepper.

"What!" she screeched, like some banshee from hell. Before the woman could say another word, Emma hung up. The entire situation felt surreal, like the painted image in the cheap frame. She felt like she was going through a tunnel; she was dizzy, frantic, panicking. Still, on the outside she steeled herself and squared her shoulders. She couldn't be weak in the face of fear, lest it take hold. Like a Fury she swept through the room and towards the front doors.

"Reyes, you can't leave"- The warden began as Emma wrenched open one of the double doors.

"I quit," she hissed, the whites of her eyes tinging an angry red. Then the doors slammed behind her, and the sound echoed through the halls for long moments after.


	2. Break

Mater Ursus

Chapter 2: Break

The roads to Beacon Hills were old and covered in the scars of traffic violators and accidents. Potholes were in abundance on the long stretch of tar. They speckled the highway like spots on a dalmatian. Each held their own story, their own separate incidence in which they made a little mark on the world. Somewhere along the way, construction workers had tried to fill in these seemingly insignificant scars. And for awhile it would work: that particular spot of road would be tolerable enough to go across. But then, like some creeping spirit of pestilence, the hard work put in to fixing that hole would be no more. The gouge in the road would once again be there, mysteriously appearing as if no one had ever even attempted a cure.

Emma's mini-van bumped along with the rhythm of the earth. Her hands gripped the steering wheel akin to the talons of a hawk. Painted on her face were the colors of worry and anger; it boiled at a simmer in her heart, ready to tear down anyone who got in her way. Perhaps she was over-reacting and Erica was simply at home, hidden away in her room. She had done that a time or two before. Still, something seemed off. Something wasn't right.

The Beacon Hills hospital wasn't nearly as fancy as other facilities in larger states, thus it was all too easy for the elder Reyes sister to follow the familiar path inside. And it was all too easy for her to march right up to the receptionists desk with fire in her eyes and brimstone bubbling in her gut.

"What do you mean she must have walked off?" Erica Reyes voice didn't echo, but it held an edge that promised a third degree burn. Her arms were crossed in a stubborn, unyielding stance, leaning into the receptionist's face.

"After nurse McCall checked in on her, she went to get the doctor and when he came back Erica was gone," the receptionist babbled weakly, shrinking away from the escalating aggression in the younger woman.

"Doesn't your facility have someone who could have seen her leave? Or, I don't know, cameras?" What started off calm and quiet ended in a burst of noise as Emma nearly yelled at the nervous receptionist. The older woman seemed to be looking anywhere but at the enraged, dark eyes that confronted her. There was a beat of quiet, filled with anxiety, before the older woman gained a bit of courage and darted a glance at Emma.

"The tapes were erased..." she said so softly that she was barely heard. Ice. Emma's heart was surrounded by ice. That wasn't normal. Tapes in hospitals didn't just get erased on a whim.

"My God. _Seriously?_ What is wrong with you people? She has epilepsy! For God's sake, she just had a seizure! She might have another one, dammit!" The older woman sunk further and further into her seat, putting as much distance between her and the ever-nearing Harpy.

"Ma'am"-

"No. No. Don't you _'ma'am'_ me! It's your job to take care of people! If something happens, if anything happens to her, I'm coming after you! Understand?" Emma was yelling now, fists clenched and teeth gritted. Her cheeks were flushed red with anger and her eyes held a glassy look. Dark thoughts flooded her mind. There were so many things that could go wrong.

"Miss Reyes," a male voice said from behind her. Emma turned around quickly, loose strands of hair falling in her eyes. Sheriff Stilinski grasped her elbow and began to softly guide her away. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're, ahem, disturbing the peace, and I'm sure you don't want to be taken into custody when your sister's out there. She needs you." As he talked he led her from the building and outside, slowly calming the rage that befit a mother bear. He patted her back awkwardly as she nodded.

"No sir, Sheriff. I was just leaving," she said calmly. But if if he would have looked closer, he could have seen the glint in her eyes. There hardening of emotion, a sharp steel gaze that would cut through the earth and leave a permanent mark.

* * *

The next stop on Emma Reyes' Hit list was Beacon Hills High School. Seeing as everybody knew everybody in Beacon Hills, the high school wasn't extremely secure. There was no sign on the doors that said 'All guests please report to the main office' or something similar. As she walked down the halls she heard uncaring conversations.

"I got that new Gucci bag!"-

"Did you see Mr. Harris?"-

"Yeah, she pitched a fit in Finstock's gym. She's such a freak."

"Probably a fake."

Emma turned her head to two young girls having a private conversation. They were giggling and mumbling, all glitter and shine without a hint of real. Her eyes narrowed on them and when they noticed the force of her gaze they quieted. Cruel. Teenagers were cruel.

Coach Finstock was in the boy's locker room, and since it was currently between classes, Emma had no qualms marching right in. Her hands were on her hips, looking slightly up into the eyes of the coach with a hard stare.

"Oh Coach Finstock, do you have a minute?" she asked, voice a false lull of sweet; a contradiction to her body language.

"No, I don't, actually"- he began, looking down at his clipboard instead of at her.

"Well, too bad. Sit," she ordered, pointing to the bench that was conveniently right behind him. When he opened his mouth to protest she stomped her foot. And Bobby Finstock sat quickly, like some well-trained golden retriever.

"What is-"

"This about?" Emma finished for him, lip curling in an ugly smile. "My sister had a seizure in _your_ gym today. And when I called the hospital, guess what?" He didn't get a chance to answer. "**She wasn't there**," she yelled. To the coach's credit, he didn't flinch back from her. But that might have been because there was a wall behind him.

"Oh... The epileptic girl?" he questioned dumbly, eyes squinting as he asked. _The epileptic girl_. Is that how everyone saw her sister? Not even as _Erica_ or _the girl_, but _the epileptic girl_?

"Yes," she answered calmly, though her nails were digging into the palm of her hand.

"Oh..._Oh_!" Emma resisted the urge to slap him across the face. She didn't know how this man had maintained his position at this school.

"I want to know what happened," she said, keeping her voice even.

"She was climbing the rock wall"-

"Did you even know she was epileptic?" Emma hissed, turning her back to him. She really couldn't tolerate the stupid expression on his face.

"I know now..."

"So you let her climb it and you didn't even know if there was anything wrong?" she asked quietly again, crossing her arms across her chest as she looked at a spot on the floor.

"Yes..." Abruptly she whirled on him, and the man flinched. Later he would say he was caught off guard, and, no, he had not flinched away from her.

"Bobby Finstock, you are the most idiotic, self-absorbed"-she began screeching.

"Uh, coach?"

Emma snapped her mouth shut as a stampede of testosterone filled teenage boys entered the locker room. They had all the grace of a herd of elephants in a china closet.

"If anything happens to her, I'm coming after you, Mr. Finstock," she said every syllable crisply, taking a step back from the coach as she did. And with that final statement, she walked right out of Beacon Hills High, putting on a brave face for the world to glimpse.

* * *

Emma Reyes' home was not located in Beacon Hills; it was just outside the city limits bordering another one road to nowhere town. It wasn't particularly big, and it wasn't particularly nice, but it was home. Home is where the heart is, some say, and there was plenty of heart put into the house. The porch was covered with knickknacks: homemade wind chimes, painted pots, and various flowers planted into mismatched shoes. The patio furniture was comprised of miscellaneous pieces: an old bench painted in a striking multitude of colors, a used wicker love seat and a few chairs with pale yellow cushions.

The door to her home was open, and for a moment Emma's heart skipped a beat with hope. Then it crashed to the ground when she noticed a familiar car parked on the opposite side of the house.

"Erica's missing," she said tonelessly as she walked in, spotting the hunched figure of Riley Reyes as he dug through her meagerly stocked refrigerator. Her step-brother wasn't known for his mannerisms. He was often reduced to sleeping on her lumpy couch when he was kicked out of his girlfriend's place two towns over.

"That's nothing new," he said, uncaring as he stuffed a sandwich into his mouth. Emma's lip curled in disgust as she threw her keys on the counter.

"Have you seen her?" she questioned, hands clenching and unclenching every second that Riley was silent.

"No," he shrugged as he looked her dead in the eye, chomping away like some primitive ape.

"Do you even care?" she hissed between clenched teeth.

"No. She's done it before," he said and rolled his eyes. "She's a freak." Emma's stare hardened and iced. Her brows lowered and she pushed his shoulder, nudging him out of her kitchen.

"Get out of my house," she ordered, pointing to the door. "Now." His cheeks turned beet red and his jaw dropped, as if he were offended. "And don't come back." Emma collapsed in a chair once she heard the door slam and the rumble of his car engine leave. Finally alone, where no one could hear her, she cried. Because even though no one else cared, Emma did. Erica was her baby sister and blood was thicker than water. Needless to say, with all the things on her mind, Emma Reyes did not get much sleep that night.


	3. Butterfly

Mater Ursus

Chapter 3: Butterfly

The house was lonely and cold like the world through the eyes of the dead. It was empty, worthless, and dull. Nightmare after nightmare plagued Emma's sleep. Like dark wraiths in the night they stole into her dreams and twisted them to decay. Sweet peace was just out of reach as her mind betrayed itself, bringing up the most morbid thoughts and pictures. She woke in the dead of night in a cold sweat more times than she could count. By the next morning her skin was pale and gray circled her eyes.

Emma wouldn't consider herself observant, but that morning she noticed things she wouldn't normally have noticed. A duffel bag, Erica's duffel bag, was no longer near the front door where it had been lying the night before. The dishes were clean. Emma didn't remember washing them before she went to bed. Erica's bedroom door was open; it had been closed when Emma got home. On a whim Emma checked the hidden envelope of emergency cash and found that it wasn't there.

Emma pressed a shaky hand to her forehead, breath whooshing from her mouth as she sighed. If Erica came home, she was safe. At least there was that. But, there was also the fact that when Erica avoided her older sister, then she was hiding something. And that something was definitely never good. In a whirlwind, Emma got dressed for the day and grabbed her keys. She was already a half hour late to work and she couldn't afford to lose her job.

It was only when she was halfway to Green Pastures that Emma remembered she had quit.

"Dammit!"

* * *

The forest wasn't Emma's ideal place of thought. She didn't like the way it obscured her field of vision and limited her escape routes. She didn't like the way empty branches seemed to stretch toward her like the clawed fingers on a witch's hand. She didn't like how the trees creaked and groaned with every gust or whisper of wind. And she definitely didn't like the way shadows danced and hypnotized one into believing they were anything but a simple shadow. Despite all that, it was peaceful. She could straighten her thoughts out, even if they resembled a balled-up, wrinkled piece of aged paper. It soothed her and lulled her into peace... Most of the time. But not today. Emma would find no peace today.

Parked on a road to nowhere, surrounded by thin, aging bark and silence was not a normal part of everyday life for Emma. But it was essential. No one was around, thus no one would hear her frustration. The release of tension started off with a simple tugging at the roots of her hair. Her eyes squished shut and nose wrinkled as she tried to reign in a torrent of emotion. Her cheeks flushed as turmoil rolled through her, akin to dark wave against the shore. The muscle in her jaw twitched against her pale skin as she gritted her teeth. Her breath came in short pants and she shut her eyes tightly.

Responsibility had been a heavy burden on her shoulders throughout Emma's life. While their eccentric mother was off gallivanting the fifty contiguous states and their father tending to the step-family, Emma had been left alone to deal with whatever side effects Erica was having. Sometimes they were mild: headaches, nausea, dizziness. Other times they were painful to watch and the extreme bouts of depression were frightening. In short, Erica was Emma's responsibility.

A short yell of curses echoed in the car as Emma controlled herself. She banged on the steering wheel in frustration before taking a deep breath and exhaling through her nose. Her hair was a mess of blonde falling from her half-assed bun and her lips were pressed in a thin, grim line. Why was life such a crooked, twisted, run-around dance? What she would give for it to be a straight line with the end clearly planted on the horizon. What anyone would give for a smooth ride instead of one riddled with bumps, gorges and mountains to pass.

The hair stood up on the back of her neck and goosebumps riddled her arms as a strange feeling ghosted over her. The feeling of being watched wasn't all too pleasant or welcome, and with a soft sigh she shifted the car in drive and went back to the main road. The clock read half past eleven, so she decided there was nothing to lose by stopping by Beacon Hills High again. On a whim she looked in the review mirror, a chill passing up her spine. Nothing was there.

* * *

Thanks to her detour Emma arrived at the high school at just passed twelve. The hallways were empty, but there was a chatter that resonated as a buzz through the air. On her way to the office she caught the tail-end of a conversation between who she thought was the sheriff's son and some other kid. She was sure they had said Erica's name at least once, and with a stride of purpose she made her way to where the boys were standing at the front doors. Some black, most likely expensive, car was parked and a blonde girl in skimpy clothing was climbing in.

"Erica?" she said cautiously, unsure that the girl was her sister. Big brown eyes snapped to her and in a few seconds Erica had shut the door and urged the driver to take off. Emma was in just the right spot to have a glimpse of the man her baby sister had gotten in the car with, probably some creep because he looked old enough to be Emma's age. The elder sister immediately zoomed in on the boys conversing a few feet away, backs to her.

"Excuse me," she said, almost politely as she tapped the Sheriff's son on the shoulder. Her smile was crude and had an almost angry curl to her lips.

"Y-yes ma'am?" When the boy turned around she was absolutely sure it was Stilinski's son.

"Who was he?" Emma asked, voice low and calm though her teeth were gnashed together.

"Who was who?" the kid almost stammered, uncomfortably shifting from foot to foot as he friend tried to back away.

"The **thug** Erica is with," Emma spat, saying _thug_ like it was a curse. She propped her hands on her hips and leaned into the boys' personal space.

"Oh! Him who. You know, he's just some guy," Stilinski stuttered and leaned away from her, his gaze darting to the left.

"Stilinski!" she reprimanded.

"Oh-ow! Derek Hale! Don't pull so hard!" he yelped, putting his hands up as if to push her away but keeping it to himself.

"Derek Hale?" Emma asked slowly, testing the name and trying to remember where she heard it from. Then her dark eyes widened and her brows lowered in an extremely angry expression. "The convicted felon Derek Hale?!" she screeched, tugging on his ear harder.

"OW-ow-well that was pardoned, but yea-ow!" he yelped louder as her grip tightened with every word, before abruptly releasing him. He stumbled back a step and rubbed his red, abused ear.

"Where does he live?" she asked calmly, arms crossing as she tapped her foot. "And you, yes you," she said as a dark haired boy tried to sneak off. His eyes widened and he ducked his head. "I'm talking to you, too." With a withering look at the boys they stuttered out directions to the burned out Hale house and scurried off. Emma watched them go with a scowl before straightening out her scrubs and stomping to her car. She didn't noticed the two pairs of eyes that followed her from the school windows.


End file.
